She danced like a doll
until her fall
Poor porcelain in pain
Broken and glued
Then on display again
Yet chipped away
The scars in place
and years laid hard
on a used up face
A crazed look
in painted eyes
from place to place
and yet people deny
How could a thing
So pretty engage
in all these wild
and evil ways?
Yet don't turn your back
nor look away
You may be the next
victim someday
(October 2nd, 2017)
YOU ARE READING
Post Modern Mystic
PoetryPoetry fills a need of the human heart to express through the construction of artistic verse, the things that hide in its depths. This book of poetry is my attempt to reach those places and beyond. See if I do. Let me know if I reach you. This will...
